


Brazilian Jeggings

by SingleStrand



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in a Car, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, jizz jeans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2251857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingleStrand/pseuds/SingleStrand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Idk I just wanted Harry to make Louis come in those jeggings he keeps wearing? And then maybe Harry will come on him too?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brazilian Jeggings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladzfm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladzfm/gifts).



“Liam! Liam? Liam. Did you see the girls with the giant blown-up poster of baby Theo’s face? Didja see ‘em? Liam?”

“Yeah mate, I saw. Right creepy that.” Liam barely glances up from texting Sophia.

“And that one about bein’ on her knees for five d’s? Get it Liam? There’s five of us and we’ve all got dicks?” Niall dissolves into giggles. He’s always like this after a show, won't shut his mouth, going on and on up near the front seat about the crowd and the girls and blah blah blah.

Louis sighs and leans his head, a bit damp with sweat, against the cool window of the SUV, closing his eyes and reveling in the post-show high. Brazil had been absolutely incredible, and Lou knows he’ll be keyed up for hours, annoyed at everyone (mostly Niall and Liam) and jittery in his own skin. Should have hit Zayn up for a smoke before they left the stadium. He never knows what to do anymore when he's not on stage. Nothing feels quite right without the frequent backstage blowies he and Harry used to hastily exchange before boarding the next bus or plane.

Lou opens his eyes and glances Harry's way. They've somehow both claimed the far back seat, each one smooshed against a window, long black leather seat empty between them. Just then, Harry looks up from his phone, catching Louis's eye before he can look away. 

"Hi," Haz whispers.

"Hey," Lou says, exhaling deeply.

“Fucking great show," Harry says, attempting a grin.

"Excellent," Lou replies, leg beginning to jostle up and down and hand tapping a beat on his thigh. Harry notices. He's always noticed.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, just the adrenaline y’know."

"Yeah. Sure," Harry says and kicks off his ridiculous boots. The drive to the airport will likely be an hour in this traffic and Louis wishes he could get cozy too, maybe lie down on the seat and rest his head on Harry's thigh like he used to. But before he can think about it too much, Harry has laid down in the empty space, his curly mop of hair flicking back on Louis lap, sending a warm draft of musky, woodsy Harry air to his face.

"M'tired." Harry closes his eyes and hums a bit, some hipster tune Louis never cares to hear from lips other than Harry’s. Harry has always made it seem like everything could just go back to the way it was before. No questions, no discussions. Just the two of them together again. Easy peasy, just like that. And it’s hard for Louis to admit since he was the one who left, he was the one who did the hurting, but he wants nothing more than for things to be that way again. Soft cuddles in private and thumbs up signs in public. Stolen kisses behind tinted windows and arms casually draped across shoulders in front of camera lenses. Could it ever be like that again? Secrets are hard. They’ll make you crazy, but if it was for Harry? For Harry, it would be worth it again. 

Harry is running his fingers through the tangles in his hair, and every time he gets to the end of a few strands, he lets his fingers casually brush against Lou’s thigh. Just a graze, barely a feeling, but it sends tingles down Louis’s spine all the same. His leg tenses in response, and Harry grins, eyes still closed. “Trying to show off your footballer legs, Lou?”

Harry’s voice is gravelly, low and muted compared to the sounds of Niall’s ramblings and Liam’s beatboxing. Louis blushes and tries hard to relax, sitting a bit lower in the seat so he can stretch out some. “Just tickled a bit is all,” he mumbles.

“Mmm,” is Harry’s reply, and he transitions immediately from smoothing his own hair to gently massaging Louis’s leg.

“Haz,” Lou says and half-heartedly attempts to brush Harry’s hand away, all while his brain screams at him, _“HARRY’S HAND IS ON YOUR FUCKING LEG, YOU ARSE, DO SOMETHING!”_

“Yes?” Harry rolls toward the seat, face nearly in Lou’s crotch. “I know you’re all keyed up. Need some way to work out the show. Let me help, yeah?” Harry licks his lips and nuzzles his cheek against the thigh he was just squeezing. ”Please?”

Fuck. Harry’s eyes are looking up at Louis from under a curtain of long brown hair, and all Louis wants to do is melt into him, reach over behind his head and pull him up for a kiss like old times. But everyone is in the car. Everyone. And there would immediately be questions he isn’t prepared to answer. What the fuck does Harry expect him to do? Louis closes his eyes a moment to get his bearings and opens them again. “How Harry? We’re fucking surrounded by our mates and it’s been ages and -” Harry cuts him off suddenly, moving in to press his open mouth against Louis’s fully-clothed cock. “Bloody hell baby Jesus, Harold.” Lou lies back against the seat once more, breathing deeply and trying not to moan. Louis curses himself for buying these jeans while shopping the other day. They’re so comfortable and soft and stretchy, it’s like wearing trackpants - albeit super tight trackpants - that look like jeans, but now that there’s warm pressure against his dick, he can feel every single movement of Harry’s lips intensely through the thin fabric. He watches as Harry alternates puffing up his cheeks to blow hot air against the denim and hollowing them out as if he’s sucking what’s there between his lips. 

Harry keeps going for a while like that, just sucking and blowing warm, damp air against the crotch of Louis’s jeans until he feels almost wet as if he’s pissed himself. “Shit,” Louis chokes out just after Harry starts to use his teeth, nibbling at the spot where the spandex-y jeans are most tight against the tip of his cock. He clenches his arse, lifting up off the seat and trying to rub against the hand Harry has resting beside his mouth, but Harry just moves his hand further down Louis’s thigh, squeezing a bit as if trying to get him to relax. Sure. Relax with a mouth nipping at his dick.

Just as Harry is reaching for the zipper, the car pulls off the motorway. “Anyone want a MacDonalds before the flight?” Niall is yelling from the front, making Paddy pull in the parking lot of a place just far enough away from the venue as to not be flooded with fans. Liam and Zayn both move to get out but Louis just sits there, momentarily panicked before finding his voice.

“I’m good. Think Haz is asleep back here anyway,” he says, gesturing toward the seat and hoping to God no one bothers to look back there as they exit the vehicle.  
Three moments later and they’re alone, Harry looking up from Lou’s lap with sparkling eyes and a shit-eating grin on his face. Only Harry fucking Styles can simulate a blow job over clothing in the back seat of an SUV full of people and act like it’s nothing.

“Wanna suck you off,” he says, tugging at Lou’s waist. “Slouch down more.”

“Haz, we’ve got like two minutes, five at the most. Seriously.”

“It’ll be fine. I’m quick.” Harry continues tugging at the waistband until he finds the button and fly and pulls them down around Louis’s thighs. “Want you,” he says, with one last pleading look before leaning over Lou’s lap and licking up the side of him. “Want you to feel good.”

Louis barely gets a nod of his head out before closing his eyes and gripping the back of Harry’s head, scratching gently at his scalp like he knows he likes. Or used to anyway. Harry takes him all the way down, sucking hard deep strokes in an erratic rhythm without pulling off quite all the way each time. “Fuck, Haz.” Louis knows it won’t take long. Never really does - did - after a show. The combination of the adrenaline rush and the mouth on Harry was always a guaranteed get-off, and Louis can already feel it building. “Harry, it’s not going to - where are we going to put it - fuck.” And Louis is coming, shamelessly throwing his head back against the seat and letting out a grunt while trying not to grip Harry’s head too hard. Harry swallows it all so fast Louis is barely done coming before he’s already pulled off.

“What the fuck was that? Oh.” Louis stops short, trying to see through the post-orgasm fog, and realizes Harry must have had his own cock out for awhile. He’s stroking it, red and swollen, up on his knees next to Louis in the seat, and he’s mumbling gibberish like he always used to when he was about to come.

“Fuck, Louis, been missing you so much an’ I know it might not be the same but I just wanted, been wanting to and I hope you’re okay with it, I mean you seemed perfectly fine with it and fuck, just wanna come with you and maybe have a nap and a cuddle on the flight back.” 

Louis can’t take it anymore, leaning forward and pulling Harry toward him to meet in a clumsy, teeth-crashing kiss, Harry’s cock smashed between their torsos.

“Want you, missed you, too, Haz. God, I didn’t even know where to start, but fuck yes I’m fine with it.” Louis reaches down between them and wraps his hand around Harry’s own, adding to the firmness and speed of the stroke. “The lads could be back any minute, you know? They’d throw open that door with Big Mac breath and see you there, up on your knees touching yourself for me.”

“Fuck, Louis.” Harry’s eyes shoot open wide and he comes between them with no warning, warm spurts running down Louis’s belly and thighs while they both just watch, mesmerized. “Fuck, so good. Just want to run my fingers through it,” Harry says while pulling up and zipping his own jeans. “Let me take care-”

“Hey Haz, you awake?!” Niall pulls open the passenger door and tosses a warm white bag in the backseat. “Got you some of those chicken wrap things since you don’t like burgers anymore.” Liam climbs into the seat directly in front of where Louis sits, shirt scrunched up to his chest, soft stretchy jeans pulled down to his thighs and Harry’s come making a dripping mess across his lower body with absolutely no way to clean it up. Lou shoots a dagger glare at Harry, who is already inspecting the contents of the McDonalds bag beside him and gently eases up his pants and jeans while trying not to arouse suspicion. The warm come soaks through both layers easily but he’s got nowhere else to wipe it off, no way to clean it up at least until they get on the plane home. Louis is pissed and humiliated and annoyingly extremely turned on.

He sits there sulking for a few moments, mulling his options. He can’t say anything out loud, can’t think of a way to get Harry back since the other lads think they’re barely on speaking terms as of late. The only thing he can think to do is text Harry his threats so he pulls out his phone.

_You owe me so big time, you arsehole. I have your actual jizz seeping through my clothes right now. FU_

He watches intently as Harry’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he takes it out, entering his passcode with greasy fingers and squinting at the screen. He doesn’t even flinch as he types his reply and goes back to eating a chicken wrap and fries.

_Gonna call em your jizz jeans from now on eh? .x ___


End file.
